


Napkins and Beer

by andCuriouser



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Drunkenness, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-21
Updated: 2018-06-21
Packaged: 2019-05-26 10:43:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14999180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andCuriouser/pseuds/andCuriouser
Summary: "You just called me pretty, Padalecki. Pretty. I think you've more than enough alcohol in your bloodstream, but in order for me to forget about this little exchange tomorrow, I'm going to need some more alcohol tonight."





	Napkins and Beer

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Nothing in this story happened. Except the parts that did.  
> Very loosely inspired by this video: youtube.com/watch?v=aWMP8xzq2BE (@2:47)
> 
> ..  
> This was originally written in 2009, and has previously been posted on AO3. I revamped it a little and thought I'd repost it. Not sure anyone is still into J2 these days, but I figured I'd share. Hope someone gets a kick out of it.

Jared watched as the pretty young brunette sashayed away, a look of  confusion on his face.  He looked down to the number scrawled across the napkin laid on the table in front of him. His brow furrowed further.  Jensen, who had watched the whole exchange in silent amusement, laughed quietly once the brunette was out of earshot.  
  
It was Jensen's soft chuckle that tore Jared's gaze from the napkin. He cocked his head to the side like a curious puppy, raised a questioning eyebrow and waited for Jensen to share the joke. Jensen shook his head slightly, grin still firmly in place, and motioned to the napkin. "What's the problem, Jay? You look like you've never seen a napkin before."  
  
Jared glanced back down at the napkin and shook his own head. "It's not  that, it's just.." he trailed off and grabbed his beer, took a quick swig before he planted the bottle atop the offending napkin. His brain felt slightly fuzzy around the edges.  
  
It was Jensen's turn to cock an eyebrow.  
  
"I don't know why chicks keep giving me their number."  
  
Jensen's other eyebrow shot up to keep the first one company. "Dude, you know you're famous, right?" A slow grin pushed Jensen's lips up as  his eyebrows came back down.  
  
Jared glared at Jensen. Or rather, he _tried_ to glare. He  was on the wrong side of too many beers, and had a vague suspicion he looked constipated rather than annoyed. He stopped glaring.  "Thanks for the update. No, jerk --"  
  
Jensen's "--bitch" came automatically and Jared continued as if he'd not spoken.  
  
"-- I just mean, why aren't they giving _you_ their number?"  
  
Jensen stared blankly at Jared for a full three seconds before his curiosity got the better of him and he had to ask. "Huh?"  
  
Jared motioned from himself to Jensen and back several times with his hand before letting it drop back down to curl around his beer.  He sighed in frustration. Jensen counted the bottle tops on the table separating him and his costar. Judging by the small mountain in front of Jared, Jensen figured he needed to take this slowly.  
  
"Backup man, what are you talking about?"  
  
"Me. They keep giving _me_ their number. Not you. Why?"  
  
Jensen smirked. "They want to see if you're anatomically correct?"  
  
Jared blinked slowly, twice, then shook his head, apparently having processed the idea and rejected it. "Dude, seriously. Why don't they give you their number instead of me?"  
  
"It's just you, Jare. It's like --" Jensen searched for something that would make sense to Jared's beer-soaked brain. "You know how guys take puppies to the park to pick up chicks?"  
  
Jared thought a moment then nodded.  
  
"Well, that's you." Jensen shrugged and took a long swallow of his beer.  
  
"No it's not! I take Harley and Sadie to the park because I –"  
  
Jensen set down the beer and held up both palms to stop the tirade before it started. He grinned at Jared's indgnant expression.  
  
"No, Jarhead, you _are_ the puppy. Or part-puppy at any rate."  
  
Jared cocked his head to the side again, looking so much like Sadie  that Jensen's head fell back as laughter rumbled from deep in his chest.  
  
"You're calling me a dog?"  
  
"Puppy" Jensen corrected.  
  
Jared seemed to be deciding if he'd been insulted or given a compliment. Jensen signaled the waitress and ordered the last round of the night. Apparently having decided that being part puppy was  not a bad thing to be, Jared moved back to his initial line of questioning.  
  
"Fine, I'm part- _Pluto_ , but I still think they should be trying to get into your pants instead. I mean, _you're_ the pretty one."  
  
 Jensen's eyes, previously tracking the waitress's movements, snapped to Jared's.  
  
" _Pretty?_ "  
  
"Yeah. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm sexy, sure, and tall, got this great hair, too.. "  
  
"Jared?" Jensen's voice was strained. He really didn't need Jared running off on a tangent now.  
  
Jared stopped trying to look at his own hair; craning his neck to the left, he looked like a puppy chasing its tail. "Hmm?"  
  
Jensen snapped his fingers. "Focus, Padalecki."  
  
"What? Oh. Yeah. I'm great, 'f course, but you've got those gorgeous eyes, pouty lips and the pretty freckles thing going on. You're smokin'." He nodded like that settled the matter and swallowed down the last of his beer.  
  
  
   
  
Jensen was glad when the waitress arrived with the two bottles. He needed a moment to digest Jared's words. He watched as the brunette accidentally brushed against Jared before she left. Jensen rolled his eyes, snagged both bottles and set them down on his side of the table, away from Jared.  
  
Jared's giant paws made grabby hands in the air. He pouted his displeasure as Jensen claimed both bottles, but Jensen shook his head.  
  
"You just called me pretty, Padalecki. _Pretty._ I think you've got more than enough alcohol in _your_ bloodstream, but in order for _me_ to forget about this little exchange _tomorrow_ , I'm going to need some more alcohol _tonight_."  
  
Apparently Jared didn't agree with this logic. Jensen watched wide-eyed as Jared bunny-hopped his chair around the table, edging closer to Jensen's. It was either a miracle that Jared stayed on the chair, or testament to how much he wanted another beer. Jensen wasn't sure whether to be impressed or worried. A little of both, he decided.  
   
 The problem with Jared was the fact he was _6-foot-fucking-enormous_ and  had the arm-span to match. Jared's impossibly long arms reached across Jensen's chest in a clumsy effort to snag a bottle. Jared may have had the height advantage, but Jensen had semi-sobriety on his side.  
  
Jensen darted the bottles out of Jared's reach each time he made a grab for them, and chuckled at the growing frustration on his friend's face. After a few more futile attempts Jared accepted defeat, and let his outstretched hand drop... right into Jensen's lap.  
   
 Jensen's laughter died in his throat as he froze.

  
  
Jared had always been a touchy-feely person of course; he often pulled Jensen close for a hug, or wrapped himself around Jensen's body like possessive octopus whenever there were cameras present. Other times he'd let his head, floppy hair and all, fall onto Jensen's shoulder whenever he'd feign sleep for the amusement of others. But the crotch-touching thing was new. He didn't know whether to make a joke, shove his hand away or pretend it wasn't there.  
  
"-- Jens, you listenin' to me, dude?"  
  
 The thick Texan drawl that accompanied Jared's drunken state snapped him out of his momentary quandary. If in doubt, choose option C.  
  
"Uh, huh?"  
  
Jared sighed melodramatically; his whole body shifted first up, then down with the quick and exaggerated intake and expulsion of air from his giant set of lungs. As a result, Jared's hand shifted in his lap and Jensen's dick noticed the sudden movement. Jensen bit his lip and continued his game of "pretend not to notice". He sent a silent prayer out to any benevolent diety within prayer-shot that Jared hadn't noticed -- or would at least follow his lead and ignore it.  
  
The hand in his lap should have clued him in that tonight he was on his own.  The prayer went unanswered. Jared's eyebrows shot up to his hairline, his eyes widened with delight and he threw his head back and roared with laughter.  The hand that had occupied Jensen's lap was now being  thrown against Jared's other non-crotch-grabbing hand as he clapped.  Jensen bit the inside of his cheek in an effort to stop the blush he felt burn its way up his neck and take residence in his cheeks. It was a failed attempt.  
   
 Jared had always been easily amused; laughing long, loud and hard at the most inane things. Once alcohol was involved, amusement became hysterics. Jensen dug some cash out of his wallet, threw it on the table, snagged the two beers and headed for the door.  
   
 Jensen wasn't sure if it was the sight of him leaving, or the fact he was taking the last available alcohol that caused Jared to pause the hysterics. Jensen heard, rather than saw, Jared as he stumbled off his chair. He turned in time to see Jared as he lurched forward, hands outstretched, a determined look on  his face. There was practically a giant neon sign flashing "gimme" above his head.

Okay, so it was the beer, then.  
   
 Suppressing a sigh, Jensen lured his inebriated best friend out into the parking lot by keeping the bottles just beyond his reach. He knew, technically, that he shouldn't be taking the alcohol out of the bar, but... desperate times and all that.

  
  
Once outside,  Jared lunged forward and made a grab for the elusive prize, and missed. He stumbled over his own too-large feet and  fell into Jensen. The bottles, forgotten as Jensen reached out his hands to stop the human mountain headed for him, fell to the ground just before the two men did. The glass exploded, sending shards of coloured glass and bitter liquid cascading over the heap of tangled limbs. Jensen took some mild satisfaction in the fact Jared copped the worst of it. _Serves him right, it was his fault anyway._ That satisfaction didn't last long; he realized that Jared was in no state to clean himself up.  
  
Jared started giggling. 

Jensen cursed and tried to disentangle himself from his soggy friend. _When did the fucker get so God damned big?_  

Finally free of the sticky mess that was Jared, Jensen climbed to his feet. He half-carried, half-dragged Jared to the car, thankful it wasn't more than a few feet away. Jared was heavier than he looked. _Hmm._ Jensen raked his eyes over the muscular body he had propped up against the car and decided that maybe Jared was _exactly_ as heavy as he looked.  
  
 Pushing him into the back seat, Jensen buckled the safety belt around the still-giggling frame as best he could and climbed into the driver's seat. Strictly speaking he knew he shouldn't be driving, but  he'd only had a few and home was only a few streets away. And really, there was nothing more sobering than being told by your best friend --  your best, _straight, male_ friend -- that you were pretty, popping a boner over said best friend while his hand was in your lap.  Jensen scrubbed a hand through his short hair and groaned.  
  
 Well, maybe there was _one_ more sobering thing.

Wrinkling his nose, Jensen jerked his head around to stare at the now vomit-covered Jared-mess, snoring softly in the backseat.  
   
 “Aww, man.”  
   
 Letting his head fall into his hands, Jensen sighed. A dull throbbing had already started at his temples. It was going to be a long night.  



End file.
